


Running

by AK29



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK29/pseuds/AK29
Summary: An old entry to a collab contest.





	Running

The first thing he felt was excruciating pain. It was what finally pushed him over the edge to consciousness. Around him incense was burning and voices muttering - about him, he was certain. He caught a phrase in the language of the wild men here and there, the most prominent of which was ‘strange’. That word had stopped bothering Fenris a long time ago.

Carefully, he forced himself to focus on his limbs. His left arm seemed numb and was bound to his body in some way. But the rest of him seemed to be in working order. He could wiggle his toes and move his fingers. Excellent. 

He surged before any of them could stop him - and fell flat on his face with a grunt. 

His bandaged arm had rid him of his balance. The tone in the hut (he could finally see the wooden walls surrounding him) changed drastically from calm conversation via surprised yelping to a breathless chuckle as one of the men picked him up effortlessly and sat him back down on the bed. Fenris was too dazed to fight him off, the fall had nearly knocked him out again. When he looked up with colourful spots in his eyes and blurred vision all he could really tell was that the man was smiling. “Calm friend. We’re not your enemies.”

Fenris swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried to will himself to speak. The words came rough but they came. “If you are… if you are not of Tevinter then you are my enemies.”

The wild man just laughed at him and Fenris felt his anger rising. At least it cleared his vision. The man in front of him was large, though not particularly large for a man of his kind. One of his ears was missing and there was a large cut running along his side. He was lightly clothed but far from naked, simply trying to accomodate to the heat and humidity of the jungle around them. The others in the room were not like him, at least not in the sense that they were fighters. A woman with a bowl of some kind of salve in her hands was likely the one who’d treated his wounds. A small girl was beside her, her daughter perhaps. He did not bother with the others - they were unarmed and hardly as dangerous as the large warrior in front of him or the woman who could kill him in his sleep.

Fenris eyed them wearily as the seriousness of his predicament slowly sunk in. He would not leave here alive.

“As far as I have been told,” the warrior went on “enemies are not brought back to the village to be treated.”

“Then why bring me here? What do you hope to gain?” Fenris was tired of this conversation. He would not aid them slay his master. Danarius was far away at this point anyway. 

“You were left behind. Abandoned by those you fought for, killed for, almost died for. We have seen many like you. Not quite like you” and he gestured at Fenris markings and the batch of white hair on his head. “but enough like you to know what you are. We do not hope to gain anything, only your company and your good health.” A smile spread over his lips and Fenris knew he was staring but his head was still trying to process what the warrior was saying.

“My name is Crucible and you are safe, here. How long your stay will be depends on how fast you heal and how quickly you wish to leave.”

It was only when he left that Fenris realized they’d been speaking in Tevene and maybe that explained the clueless faces all around him.

—

“How do you speak Tevene?” Fenris inquired in the rough and guttural language of the wild men - fog warriors, Fenris had taken to call them. The seemed to prefer the term. “I was in Tevinter, in the fighting pits. That’s how I got my name.”, Crucible replied in that easy cheerful tone that made him widely popular with men and women alike in the encampment. “I suppose thos markings are from your time there as well?” Fenris found that he did not stiffen as he usually did, nor flinch. 

“I… yes. They are lyrium. I suppose I must look… odd to your kind.”

Crucible let out a hearty laugh, a sound Fenris had come to like.

“Not much, no. Maybe a bit fine for warpain, but they’ll do the trick.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “What trick, exactly?”

—

The boys - they were 15, maybe older - moved with more grace than he ever could have mustered and Fenris was in awe of them. They had already caught two rabbits and were tracking a stag now. Fenris clutched his bow. He had fired three shots and all of them missed. He was not made for this, but Crucible and the boys told him not to bring his sword, he was bound to make noise. 

He was making noise anyway because stealth was the one thing Fenris had not been trained for. Luckily the boys were skilled enough to make up for it. 

Back at camp, they shared the food and even Fenris, now dressed in rags and bits of leathers was allowed in their midst. The younger ones eyed him curiously but most of the adults seemed not to care. Their ignorance of his presence was oddly comforting. He was not strange to them because they knew what magic the Tevinter could wreathe. So he was accepted as an oddity, apparently. Even if he tried to kill them.

Fenris was no fool of course, he knew Crucible was constantly at his side as more than just a guide but they were still much more trusting than anyone Fenris had ever met. And much more free with their affections as Fenris learned that night when one of the boys came over to him and tapped his shoulder. “You are a shit shot”, he drawled, somewhat drunk. “But pretty.”

—

The lovers needed their own hut and they were building it all by themselves. Fenris looked up and watched them work, exchanging meaningful glances and even more meaningful kisses all the while still managing not to slack off. They were efficient because they wanted to be, not because anyone expected it of them. Fenris observed them for a while before offering his help. They were as kind and gentle to him as they were to each other.

Well alright, maybe not that gentle (a fact he was very grateful for), but still a lot nicer than most of the other villagers. The simplicity with which they touched and carressed bothered him as much as it intrigued him and they caught him staring more than once. Fenris had amiable self-restraint, but even he could not keep the colour from his cheeks.

Both women were quite beautiful after all. 

—

“I- I don’t understand you. You’ve lost your mother?” Fenris had gotten better at the native Seheron language, but that didn’t mean he could understand a little child. Particularly a little child that screaming bloody murder at him and pulling at several leather strings that could completely pull down his clothes. He made a gab for her hands and then, lacking another idea, took her in his arms and carried her. 

The encampment wasn’t far. He suspected the girl lost her mother, or caregiver, while collecting berries. She calmed in his arms, nuzzling her head agains his shoulder (and probably snotting all over him, Fenris realized with some belated terror) and mumbling continuously.

Crucible was waiting for him in the camp. He had stopped accompanying him everywhere a few days ago. Fenris almost missed the company. He’d been lonely all his life - the exact opposite had been annoying at first, but was ultimately preferable.

Strength in numbers and all that.

“There you are! I almost thought you’d run off. Where did you find her?”

“I was taking a walk is all. She seemed to have the same idea.”, he replied, with a smile that came much too easily. He was happy to give the girl over to him and have leave to go and wash off whatever bodily fluids she may have left behind, anyway.

—

He’d obeyed. He didn’t know why he’d done that. They had given him everything and–

Fenris looked at the blood on his hands as he felt someone touching his shoulder and flinched away. “Poor boy has already forgotten his master’s touch. What have they done to you?”

Sheltered, Fenris wanted to scream. Healed, helped, saved. It was no use. The girls face stared up to him and his stomach turned and rebelled.

A madness took hold of him as he used the last of his power to shove Danarius into the ground, and ran.

He didn’t stop.


End file.
